Lilies
by SeventhDevil
Summary: Lilies remind you of him. Two-shot. WARNING: Spoiler from "Reichenbach fall". First translation to english, so, please, don't be so harsh.


You walk above the grass, softly wet by rain. The fresh perfume that releases reach your nose and fills you, easing slightly the pressure in your chest.

It's been almost two years, but the pain that fills you every time you come here is the same… And you know that's not good, but it's ok to you. Is the best that you have to deal with the day a day without him.

You move in erratically between the tombstones, holding in your hand a bouquet of white lilies slightly inclined forward, even in a careless way… And finally, you reach your destiny. The lonely tomb under the naked branches of a tree.

You take a frozen air deep breath that slides painfully through your throat. You lean to pick the wilted flowers left by yourself exactly a week ago and put the fresh bouquet in its place. You always bring white lilies… Maybe because they remindd you of him: pale, cold and perfect… Beautiful winter flowers destined to wither too early.

You sit down in front of the black tombstone, crossing your legs, looking steadily the cold piece of marble with his name in front of you. You open your mouth and close it even shyly. You end wetting your lips with your tongue.

-Well… Here I am… -you start saying - Probably if you were here you'd be telling me that it's absurd talking to you when you're… Well… -you swallow. You always say the same at the beginning. Always.

You're going to continue talking, but you stop dead in your tracks. You low your head and you feel something breaking deep inside of you. You bite your lower lip containing the tears as the soldier you were. You stretch your hand to take a lily from the bouquet. You start softly caressing the delicate white petals.

-I-I came back to Baker street. Finally I've found a good job. Stable, and stuff. With nice partners that say hello politely and ask for your family… I can't stop imagining your face if you'll saw them! –you let a nervous giggle leave your mouth –I know you wouldn't stop telling me how boring they are… And you would crawl me in another crazy case… and…

And you can't hold on more time. You hit the ground with your closed fist and you break crying quietly. You feel the tears running free on your cheeks while some traitorous moaning escapes form your throat. You lose the notion of time waiting for the miracle that never happens…

You don't know how much time have passed since you came when you feel a drop crashing on your hand… And another… And another one. Suddenly a heavy rain starts falling down. A rain that shakes your body, the tomb and the flowers equally. It soaks you up and blends with your tears in a… comforting way?

-Mrs. Hudson sends greetings… She misses you, you know? –you whisper now with a broken voice –And I'm sure that Lestrade misses you too… Although I haven't seen him since… -you close strongly your eyes, swallowing a sob.

-I miss you, Sherlock Holmes… -you sigh, finally, looking at the tombstone hit by the rain –And… there's so many things y should have told you when I could… I don't know. It's difficult, confusing… Knowing that I won't have the chance to say them… And even if I could, I don't know if I'd have the enough courage to do it –a small smile comes out of your lips with the memory of brief, fleeting moments that you had lived by his side… Moments that shouldn't have much importance, but that you keep jealously, as the most valuable of all treasures.

You sigh, realizing that you just stopped crying, that you're soak till your bones, and that it's time to go home. You stand up with a sad look in your eyes and caress the black stone with your hand.

-I'll come back, Sherlock Holmes… -you remind him with a caress –Because I… I still…

You turn around, dropping the lily that you were holding all this time in your hand and you walk back to home, unable to end the sentence.

A gloved hand picks up the lily you dropped. He caresses it as you did moments ago and raises his head, to watch you go on in the distance under the heavy rain.

-The feeling is mutual, John Watson –he whispers before turning up and go, in opposite direction than yours.


End file.
